Finally, I asked, “Can I be really honest here?” As soon as Elijah nodded, I went on. “Why aren’t you worried right now? I mean, no offense. This is just—”
“Honesty,” he filled in. “I hear you, Rio. I get that.”
“So what gives?” I persisted. “I’d be hysterical if my lifelong friend were being held hostage by a bunch of unknown bastards in some unknown place.”
“Well, for one thing, I don’t get hysterical.” The man met my stare with his newly serious one. “About anything. For another thing, I don’t believe he’s really in serious danger.”
Before I could get a word of my mounting objection to that comment out of my mouth, the laidback guy held up a steady flat palm to stop me.
“Calm down and hear me out. I’m not saying they won’t knock him around a little bit.” He shrugged—actually shrugged—and then sat on the stool beside me. “But Grant’s a big guy. Tough too. My man can take a lot before he snaps.”
For a long second, I didn’t say anything. I just watched as different facets of Elijah’s heart projected onto the screen of his face. It was quite a privilege to experience. I suspected this man typically held his emotional cards close to the vest. I also suspected there was a lot more to this man than he let on to with his carefully cultivated exterior.
First, I’d noticed a flash of pride when I mentioned how similar he and Grant were. I knew all three men—Grant, Sebastian, and Elijah—had rough childhoods on and off Los Angeles’s streets. While the city was a different place now than twenty years ago, those boys and then young men saw some hard times.
Finally, he said, “I have all the faith in the world that he’s going to be alright, Rio. You just have to go with me on this.”
But I still had a bothersome feeling Elijah was keeping something from me. And while I didn’t expect we’d be braiding each other’s hair or playing a few rounds of Never Have I Ever, I had foolishly—naïvely, I supposed—expected him to treat me with the same respect he always gave Grant. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he would give me the answers I asked for at this point regardless, but I would never know if I didn’t try. Otherwise, I would go home wondering and beat myself up for the rest of the night.
“I just feel like you’re holding something back. Like you have information, but you think I can’t handle hearing it.” I studied his expression after I hurled my accusation, but he didn’t so much as twitch. So I kept on going. “But you’re forgetting, I was the woman lying in bed beside him when they dragged him from our cabin in the middle of the goddamn night!”
Yes, I was getting pissed, but someone needed to be outraged on Grant’s behalf. Actually, somebody needed to be a lot more than that.
“I haven’t forgotten, Ms. Gibson.” The maddening man narrowed his focus more intently on my trembling hands resting on the marble counter.
I quickly clasped the traitors together in my lap.
Elijah continued in an even darker tone of voice. “Nor have I forgotten why he was on that boat in the first place. So don’t hurl qualifiers in my direction right now, Rio.”
“Is that what I’m sensing, then? You’re blaming me for all of this? If he hadn’t been on that boat with me in the first place, this would have never happened?”
“That’s a pretty obtuse conclusion to draw. Even for you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s projecting.” He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow in accusation.
“‘Even for you’? What is that supposed to mean?” My voice rose in pitch and volume with each word that tumbled out. “And it sounds like I’m not the only one who’s done some time on the therapy couch!” I gave him the raised eyebrow right back. God, this smug bastard was infuriating.
But what he wasn’t was ruffled. Not in the slightest. Maybe a little amused, but positively not angry or upset in any way.
“All right, all right.” He held both hands up as though he were a holy man blessing his flock. “Let’s just calm down before things are said that aren’t meant. It was not my intention to offend you.”
Well…okay, then. Even though it came from out of left field, I’d accept his apology.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m sure I’m overly sensitive. I wasn’t joking when I said I haven’t been sleeping well. While we were on the boat, Grant really helped me work on getting my sleep pattern back in order, and now it’s shot to hell once again.” I shook my head ruefully and mumbled, “He’s going to be so disappointed in me.”
“Rio,” Elijah said quietly, but I couldn’t meet his hazel stare. “Look at me, girl.”
Well, that did it. Once more, that damn voice…
I slowly looked up to find those piercing hazel eyes looking through to my soul.
“He’s not going to be disappointed in you over lost sleep. Especially while you’re under so much stress.” My host walked across his kitchen to the refrigerator for another bottle of water. He was downing them one after the other since I arrived, and I was biting my cheek to not make a joke about lowering his salt intake.
After gulping half the bottle of water down, Elijah said, “But while we’re on the subject of disappointing that man, I think there’s something else we should probably talk about.”
“Well, shit, Elijah, I wouldn’t have thought you capable of letting anyone down.” Of course, I knew exactly where he was steering the conversation, but if I could derail his train, I would.
“Don’t be cheeky.” He scowled and finished the last swig of his fourth bottle of water, if my tally was accurate.
“I don’t need a lecture, Elijah. Or a reminder. Or a pep talk, or any other branding you want to slap on your nagging me about something that doesn’t really concern you.”
Quicker than I could process what was happening, he was on my side of the island, invading my personal space until I could feel his breath on my cheek with each low, menacing word he issued.
“Listen closely, lady.” He leaned back just far enough to get his arm between us and thump his thumb back into his own sternum. “It was me who took the phone call from my brother when he needed someone to trace your cellphone call from Clear Horizons.” He studied my expression closely before going on. “And it was also me”—thump, thump—“who followed that same best friend out of a fucking burning building filled with innocent people. And here’s the real kicker… You’ll love this part… My best friend was carrying your ass the whole way because you were busy babbling like the corner hobo on a bad Molly bender. And that man loves you so damn much he literally walked over fucking fire to save you!”
By the time he finished that last bit, he had flared his nostrils to greedily inhale fresh oxygen. But when I tried to interrupt, he widened his eyes in reproach, and I instantly shrank back.
“And it is still me”—thump, thump—“Ms. Gibson, that covers your ass for the mess you made the night of your late husband’s accident. Almost every. Single. Day. Our other best friend grills me. Accuses me. Attacks my character in one way or another. And all for the sake of saving your precious dignity and reputation. So do not tell me that your pyromaniac tendencies don’t really concern me. Have I made myself clear?”